


Unfathomable

by acityofsleeplesspeople



Category: Victorious
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acityofsleeplesspeople/pseuds/acityofsleeplesspeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Growing up in a society where humans are kept separate from the creatures that dwell in the depths of the sea, Beck Oliver never dreamt that one day, the two worlds would collide, trapping him in the middle. Can he manage to change the unswerving minds of the people around him so that he can be with the one he loves, or will he be torn away from her and stuck in a society that just doesn't understand? Bade. AU. My first, so reviews would be nice. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was once a time when people loved the sea. I know, because my mother's told me stories about it; whispered recollections in hushed tones as she tucked me into bed as a child. She probably thought I either didn't hear her or wouldn't remember, but I do. I remember her telling me how people would swim in the ocean; sunbathe on its shores; swim; fish; surf- their daily routines guided by the constant rhythms of its tides and waves. It was like the water was what connected them to the earth; made them feel part of it; made them feel alive. It replenished them, never asking for anything in return.

But then, several years before I was born, everything changed. A terrible summer storm, a hurricane, rolled down the entire West Coast, tearing the Pacific Ocean apart. It churned the water, hurling creatures from its depths that the people had only ever heard myths about, and so had chalked their existence up to the stuff of mere legends and fairy tales. But this new proof of the creatures' reality, coupled with their strange resemblance to our kind- this threw the entire society off its axis. Some wanted the creatures exterminated, and all mention of them wiped from our histories, like they were nothing more than a bad dream to be woken up from. However, in a land known for its embrace of freedom, for its love of tolerance and goodness, such a solution was unconscionable. Instead, the government came up with a different plan: leave them be in their realm, and resign ourselves to our own. "The Divide", they called it. It was better this way, they said- better to simply ignore what we didn't understand and try to go on with life like nothing had happened. No one was allowed near the water anymore. The beaches were fenced off, their gates locked, all waterways that lead to the sea kept under a watchful eye. It was such a deviation from the norm that many people left. Their connection with the earth was lost, and since the sea no longer had anything to offer them, they just didn't see the point in staying.

Locked fences with barbed wire. Guarded rivers and streams. A city so near the water that you can smell the salt in the air, and yet are forbidden to venture to its source. These things are the only life I've known: nothing but solid ground and places I'm not allowed to go.

* * *

**Author's Note**

So, I've decided to try my hand at an AU. They always seemed so interesting to me, and I've been wanting to write one for awhile, so here we are! :) It's my first one, so reviews would be appreciated!

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Beck."

I groan and turn over in bed, pulling my pillow over my head in a less than successful attempt to drown out the voice.

"Beck, get up." My mother places her hand on my shoulder and gives it a shake. "Come on."

"No," I mumble into my mattress.

"Why?"

"Summer. No school. Sleepy." I close my eyes and start trying to drift back off, but mother just isn't having it.

"You can't sleep all the time, you know," her voice thick with irritation. "I swear, you're going to get bedsores." She yanks the pillow off of my head and then pulls my curtains open. I wince as the unexpected light hits me in the face. Opening my eyes, I see her standing beside my bed, arms folded, mouth pressed into a firm line.

"Up. Now."

I grudgingly heave myself into a sitting position, stifling a yawn that's rising in my throat.

"Why do you even care?" I ask, rubbing a fist across my eyes. "You're not gonna be here, anyway. It's not like I'll miss out on spending time with you."

Her face falls, and I instantly regret my words. I know my mom doesn't  _want_ to work so much. It can't be easy being a single parent, but she does it, somehow managing to pay all of our bills  _and_ my school tuition out of her meager salary as a housekeeper. She works twelve hour days, six days a week, all to make sure I have everything I need and most of what I want. When I'd turned sixteen, I'd wanted to get a job so I could pitch in and help out, but she'd completely dismissed the idea. "School is your job, honey," she'd said. "Besides, you'll have the rest of your life to work. Just enjoy being a teenager, and let me worry about everything else."

She's done a lot for me, sacrificed so much so that I could have the best in life, and I know I've hurt her with my flippant little comment.

"I know I don't get to hang out with you very much, Beck," she says quietly, reaching down to pick a loose thread off of her uniform apron. "And I'm sorry about that; really, I am. It's just that I've got to pay your tuition bill in a couple of weeks, and then you'll need school supplies and new clothes before you know it, so I've been taking on as many shifts as I can get to make sure that I can cover everything-"

I cut her off by standing up and folding her into a quick hug. "No, no- it's okay, Mom. Really." I assure her, patting her on the back. I pull away and give her a sheepish, tentative smile. "As usual, your son is just being a totally unappreciative, asshole teenager, and I'm sorry." I look at her expectantly, hoping she'll accept my apology. When she laughs, I know all is forgiven.

"You're not an  _asshole,_ Beck," she tells me, reaching up and ruffling my hair. "Just a testy little adolescent, which is good. I'd be concerned if you were all sunshine and roses all the time. That'd be creepy. But since you're not, I can rest assured that you're totally normal." She delivers that last line with a hint of mirth and a smirk, and I roll my eyes good-naturedly; her sense of humor is nothing if not completely groan-worthy.

"I've got to go in a few minutes," she says, checking the time on her watch, "but... um, the reason I got you up so early is because... well, I was kinda hoping you'd mow the front lawn for me today, and I wanted you to do it before it gets too hot out. The last thing I want is to come home and find my son passed out in the yard from heat stroke."

I nod. "Yeah, I'll get right on that."

She smiles. "Thank you, sweetie. I really appreciate it." She kisses my forehead before heading to the door. "I'll be home around nine!" She calls over her shoulder. "There's leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry. Be good! I love you!"

"Love you too!" I bellow back. The door slams, and a few seconds later I hear her car start and rumble down the road.

I step over to my window and check the thermometer that hangs right outside. It's already seventy degrees, even though it's barely nine in the morning, and the sky is clear and cloudless. I sigh. I should probably mow the lawn before it gets much hotter.

I'm already wearing a t-shirt, so I just swap out my plaid pajamas pants for a pair of basketball shorts and pull on my old, black Converse high-tops. I yank my hair into a ponytail at the back of my head, gaze longingly back at my bed, sheets still rumpled from me sleeping in them, and head outside.

My eyes burn and struggle to adjust to the bright morning light as I jog down the front steps and drag the lawnmower out from under the eave of the house. I wheel it over to the mailbox, where I usually start mowing, and yank the starter cord.

Nothing happens. I yank it again.

Nothing.

I yank it once more, harder and faster this time, and it finally roars to life. I smile, relieved. I can already feel beads of sweat popping up on my forehead, threatening to run down into my eyes, so I mop them off with the corner of my shirt sleeve. Wrapping my fingers around the mower handle, I begin the tedious task of pushing it around the yard until all the grass is cut.

It's boring, but I do get into a good rhythm pretty quickly, finishing the first half of the yard in about fifteen minutes or so. I make sure to nod and wave at the neighbors as they come outside to get in their cars and go to work, but I don't bother trying to speak to them over the roar of the mower- I'd shout myself hoarse.

Soon after I reach the halfway point, I decide to take a break. I'm sitting underneath our scrubby little palm tree, drinking a juice pouch of fruit punch, when I see a figure approaching. It's still about a block away, so I can't see much, but I'm pretty sure it's a girl. I shrug and take another sip of my juice. It's not unusual to see a random person around the neighborhood. People walk through here all the time, so I don't give it much thought.

I sit under the tree for another few minutes, enjoying my drink in the shade, until I finally decide to get up and finish the lawn. I stand, crumpling my juice pouch in my fist, and head inside to put it in the garbage can, an act which carries with it a few seconds of air conditioning.

When I come back outside, I see that the girl has gotten closer: she's only a few houses away now. I pause to peer at her, one hand still on the mower starter cord. Even from here, I can tell she's scowling, her features all curled up in her face. She looks to be about my age, and she's wearing a plain, black dress, like the kind people wear as bathing suit coverups, and no shoes. I frown. The heated pavement has got to hurt to walk on, but she seems oblivious to that, either because she doesn't care, or maybe because she seems to be having trouble walking at all. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, her arms folded tightly over her chest as she toddles along at an almost glacial pace, stumbling every now and then. A sudden gust of wind rakes her wild black hair over her shoulders, and even nearly makes her lose her footing, but it's gone just as quickly as it appears, and the air is calm and still again.

She's honestly unlike any other girl I've ever seen. There's just something about her that I find to be incredibly intriguing, even if she is clumsily tripping over her own feet like a newborn deer. I lean my forearm on the mower handle, in what I hope is a casual stance, so I can subtly keep watching her.

Her gait seems less unsteady now, but it is still timid as she continues lurching her way down the road. She's nearly to the house next door now, so I turn away and pretend to adjust some things on the lawnmower, trying to seem busy so she won't think I'm a creep or something. Besides, it really  _is_ getting hotter by the second, and I'm starting to think that my mother's warning about heat stroke wasn't entirely in jest.

It's not until I feel the distinct coolness of a shadow over me, shielding my back from the sun, that I finally turn back around and find myself face to face with her.

xxx

I nearly stumble- her coming right up to me like that was the absolute last thing I'd expected to happen; it hadn't even entered the realm of possibility in my mind, if I'm being completely honest- but her hand shoots out in a blur, grasping my arm and steadying me before I can lose my balance. Her palm lingers against my sweaty, flushed skin for a few moments before she finally pulls her hand away. She's barely even a foot away from me now. Her head is bowed slightly, and she's staring down at the freshly cut patch of grass that she's standing on.

I wait silently for a moment, all but pinned between her and the lawnmower. I don't quite know what to make of all this, so I just don't do anything, waiting for her to make the first move. It takes more than a few seconds, but at last she tears her attention away from the ground and tips her chin upward to face me properly, locking her gaze with mine.

When I take a moment to really look at her, it occurs to me how pretty she is. She's definitely not a stereotypical bottle-blonde, overly tanned, California girl, but she  _is_ pretty nonetheless: her black hair twists down her shoulder in unruly waves, a few of them gleaming black and turquoise in the midmorning light. It's certainly a stark contrast against her white skin, but it's not at all an unpleasant one. And her eyes- oh my god, her eyes are gorgeous. They're wide and round, seeming almost impossibly large, but it's their color that's truly heart-stopping: they're a clear, dark green-blue, like what I've seen of the sea in pictures and movies, and what I imagine it still would look like if I ever got to actually see it myself.

Pretty? No, I was wrong before. She is definitely not just 'pretty'. No, this girl is so breathtakingly beautiful that it leaves me tongue-tied and speechless.

I'm so wrapped up that I don't even notice she's said something until I catch her looking up at me impatiently, the scowl carving itself deeper into her lovely features. I get the feeling that she makes this face a lot. It seems almost habitual to her.

"Wh-what was that, again?" I stammer.

She sighs, clearly aggravated. "I asked if you had any water around," she repeats. I blink in surprise. Her voice is a little lower than I'd been expecting it to be, but it's got an... oh, I don't know, almost  _musical_ quality. Each word carries the slightest lilt to it, like the beginning of a melody, seeming impossibly wonderful despite the thinly veiled snap of exasperation in her tone.

"Water?" I clarify. She nods once, decisively. Hmm. It's not every day that strangers come by my house asking for stuff, but it  _is_ pretty scorching out, and I can tell her mouth is dry by the way she keeps running the tip of her tongue over her lips. I can give her some water, I decide. It's the least I can do. It'll be my good deed for the day.

"Yeah, water. Sure," I say, edging my way out from between her and the lawnmower. "Um, follow me."

I turn and start heading back up to the house. I'm nearly halfway up the steps before I realize she isn't right behind me anymore. I turn back to see her kneeling in the grass, one thin hand on her chest. She's nearly panting, eyes even wider now against the porcelain skin of her face, ballooning to almost cartoonish levels. She's growing whiter almost by the second, like a flower wilting under the scorching sun, and it's kind of scaring me.

I hurry back down the steps to her side, where, unsure what to do, I settle for brushing a few loose strands of hair away from her face. When I do so, she fixes me with a look that clearly says "don't touch me", so I back off, sitting back on my heels and resting my hands on my knees.

We just sit for a few minutes. Her eyes slip closed, her pale hand working against her collarbone as quick, shallow breaths rush in and out of her lungs. I eye her, concerned. I'd thought that giving her a minute would have helped her perk back up, but it hasn't done any good. If anything, she's getting worse now, nearly gasping for air.

I nudge her knee tentatively. "Hey."

"What?" she snaps back, clearly trying to sound tough, but her voice is breathless and ruins the effect.

"I just think you'd feel a lot better if you were inside," I reply. "It's nice and cool in there, and you can chill for a minute and have some water."

She nods and places her hands on the ground in front of her, feebly trying to push herself to her feet, but the action does nothing. Too weak, I suppose. Probably dehydration.

"Okay..." I say slowly. "Well, I have to get you in the house  _somehow,_ so-" I gesture to her. "May I?"

She nods reluctantly, looking unsure, but allows me to gather her into my arms, easily swinging her up against my chest. She honestly doesn't feel like she weighs much of anything at all, but what's even stranger is that she's completely bone-dry; she's not sweating at all. Not even a little bit. I know girls like to pretend that sweating is gross and that they don't do it, but everyone does, and the fact that she isn't on a day like this is not good- she could very easily get overheated. I carry her up the steps as quickly as I can, careful not to jostle her too much. Once we're inside, I go to set her down in a chair at the kitchen table, but she seems to have passed out, her head against my shoulder.

I adjust my grip on her. She feels hot to the touch- definitely overheated. Crap. How do I fix that, again? I should  _know_ this; I took that first aid class last summer. I search frantically through my mind until I remember- cold. I have to cool her down. I nod to myself and carry her into the bathroom, placing her carefully on the floor and leaning her up against a wall so she won't fall over.

I put the stopper in the drain of the bathtub before wrenching the water on and turning the temperature gauge all the way to the blue side instead of the red. As it fills up with cold water, I watch her anxiously for any sign at all that she might be waking up. There is none. She just sits there, still and lifeless like a doll. Oh,  _god._

After what seems like an eternity, the tub finishes filling up, and I reach over to cut the water off. Once that's done, I carefully pick her back up. She feels light as a feather in my arms.

"I sure hope this works," I mutter, bending over and setting her gingerly in the bathtub. The skirt of her dress floats on the surface of the water for a moment before getting weighed down and sinking beneath it. The water only comes up to around her chest, but I hope it'll be enough to get the job done. I sit down on the closed lid of the toilet to wait.

She's only been in the water for about a minute, maybe less, when her eyes snap back open and she looks around the room in confusion. "What the-"

"You got overheated outside," I say quickly, a little embarrassed at how much more eager and relieved my voice sounds than I'd meant for it to. "I had to get your temperature down, so I-"

"Brought me in and stuck me in a tub of cold water," she finishes.

"Yeah-"

She shakes her head. "You shouldn't have done that," she says, an unfathomable tone to her voice. I must look a little hurt, because she backpedals a bit. "I mean, don't get me wrong, that was... nice, I guess, but..." she trails off when she notices the door and starts clawing at the side of the tub, trying desperately to get to her feet.

"Whoa, whoa," I say, placing a hand firmly on her shoulder. "You just passed out, you know. I don't really think you should be going anywhere just yet."

"And now, thanks to you, I definitely won't be leaving anytime soon," she says ruefully.

Huh? "What do you mean?" I ask.

"Oh, just wait for it," she replies, waving a hand dismissively. "You'll see what I mean."

No sooner has she spoken than the water begins to bubble furiously, like it's boiling or something. She curses under her breath and leans back against the tiled wall, looking bored while I watch the rising bubbles with rapt attention.

I can see a fuzzy shape under the frothy water, but I'm not sure what it is yet. I wait patiently as the bubbles begin to pop. More. More, until they're all gone and the water is clear and calm again. It's then that I see what the shape is: her legs are totally gone, replaced instead by a sleek, shiny charcoal tail, highlighted by a few random turquoise and blue scales that match the streaks in her hair.

I can do absolutely nothing except stare, agape. She sighs.

" _That's_ what I mean," she says irritably, pointing to her tail. "So now I'm stuck."

I still can't say anything. She groans.

"So not only am I stuck," she gripes, "but my only company has apparently just come down with an acute case of catatonia." She sinks further down in the tub, flicking her tail around and making ripples in the water. "Great."

* * *

**Author's Note**

So, I've decided to try my hand at an AU. They always seemed so interesting to me, and I've been wanting to write one for awhile, so here we are! :) It's my first one, so reviews would be appreciated!

 


	3. Chapter 3

All I can do is stare at her, dumbfounded. I'd always known that her kind existed; that they were the reason for The Divide, but having someone like her actually be _here,_ in front of me, is more jarring than anything I've ever experienced. I stand up, running a hand through my hair, trying to get my mind together. She peers up at me over the edge of the bathtub, tracking each of my movements with her vast green eyes.

 

When I notice her watching me, I back toward the door, trying to put enough space between us so that I can process all of what's happened. For some reason, the only thing I can really wrap my head around is not the fact that I have a mermaid in my bathtub; it's that I haven't finished the lawn- my mother's going to kill me!

 

The girl twitches her tail as I take another step toward the door, my hand reaching out to turn the knob. I'm distracted by the effects of her movement: light fractures into a million rainbows as it hits her scales, illuminating the entire room like someone's turned on a disco ball. It's pretty, I think, then shake my head. I have to go finish mowing. I can't keep getting sidetracked.

 

“Where are you going?” she asks. Her voice is still impossibly melodic, but I'm not immune to the slightest tone of anxiety lurking beneath the surface.

 

“I've got to go finish the lawn,” I say, tugging on the drawstring of my shorts. I open the door, and I'm just about to head back into the hallway when it closes again, the lock sliding into place with a small 'click'. I turn back to the tub to see that the girl has raised one of her arms out of the water, the angle of her hand very clearly demonstrating that, somehow, she's manipulated the door.

 

“What'd you do that for?” I ask, impatient. Somehow, I'm more irritated than awestruck at the phenomenon that's just occurred.

 

Catching my gaze, she lets her arm drop back into the tub beside her, looking almost embarrassed. “I didn't want you to go,” she says simply. “I mean, this _is-”_ she gestures to herself, “this is _your_ fault, you know. I think the least you can do is stay with me. Make it up to me.”

 

“But I have to go,” I sigh.

 

“And _I_ want you to stay,” she says stubbornly, crossing her arms.

 

“Oh, yeah? What's the magic word?” I ask in a simpering tone, imitating how my mother used to speak to me as a child.

 

She looks exasperated. “'Sit the hell down and talk to me this instant'?” she answers sarcastically, setting her jaw. I glance at her sharply. “Please?” she asks. She sounds so innocent and sincere that I forget she's just insulted me, and I sit back down on the lid of the toilet in resignation.

 

The girl claps her hands once before she catches herself and hastily smoothes her expression back into a disinterested scowl, struggling to hide her delight at having gotten her way.

 

“So, what do you want to talk about?” I ask defeatedly, resting my chin in my hand.

 

She shrugs her pale shoulders. “I don't know...” she trails off, catching me staring at her. “What?”

 

I blush a little at being called out. “Sorry, I've just never met anyone quite like you before,” I explain.

 

She cocks an eyebrow at me, and there's a sudden, miniscule flash of light, much like what had happened a few minutes earlier. For a second, I wonder if she's got more scales on her face that I haven't noticed, but then I see that it's just pierced, a silver ring glinting with every expression. “What do you mean, 'anyone like me'?”

 

I shift my weight uncomfortably. “You know- a Lesser.”

 

“A _Lesser?”_ she repeats, narrowing her eyes. She laughs humorlessly, angrily splashing water onto the tiled floor. “ _Lesser._ Like 'less than human', is that it? I've heard that word before, sure, but I _never_ thought I'd see the day that I'd be called that.” She turns to me, her face stormy with rage. “So is that all I am to you? Less?” She shakes her head. “I should've known better than to have asked you for help,” she mutters. “That's all you think of me? You don't even know me,” she mutters. “Lesser,” she scoffs again, pinching the bridge of her nose. “ _You're_ the Lesser.”

 

“Okay, look, I didn't mean to offend you,” I say truthfully. “That's just the only word I've ever heard to describe someone like you, and like I said, I've never met anyone like you before.” I pause for a moment, trying to think of something I can do or say to help smooth things over. I honestly hadn't meant to hurt her feelings. “All right,” I say slowly, “How about you tell me what it is you'd like me to call you, and I'll never call you a Less-” She shoots me a warning glance, and I catch myself. “The _L_ word, again.”

 

“Calling me by my actual name would be a nice way to start,” she pouts, flicking the tip of her tail.

 

I nod. “Okay, so... what's your name?”

 

“Jadelyn,” she replies. “But everyone calls me Jade.”

 

Pretty name, I think. Unusual, but pretty. It definitely fits her.

 

I stand up. “Nice to meet you, Jade,” I say, extending my hand. “I'm Beck.”

 

She looks confused for a moment, like she's not quite sure what I'm doing. Finally, she reaches up and shakes my hand. She has a much firmer grip than I'd been expecting, her pale skin a stark contrast against my own.

 

“Never shaken someone's hand before, have you?” I ask, sitting back down on my perch.

 

Jade shakes her head. “Was it that obvious?”

 

“Only a little,” I say, bending down to retie my shoe. “So... tell me about yourself.” It's a pretty lame conversation starter, but I can't think of anything else to say.

 

“I don't know what to tell. I don't find myself especially compelling.”

 

“Sure you are,” I coax. “Everyone's got _something_ interesting about themselves. Just go for it.”

 

“Fine,” she sighs, splaying her fingers in the water. I notice that her nails are painted a dark turquoise to match her scales and hair. “Where should I start?”

 

“Anywhere you'd like... Jade.”

 

She brightens a bit at my use of her name. “Okay. Um... like I said before, my name is Jadelyn. I was born in Ireland on July 26. My mother and father were both muirgens- it's an Irish word that basically means mermaid. They always insisted there was a distinction, but I could never find one to speak of. Anyway, soon after I was born, they decided to move here.” She pauses, so I decide to take the opportunity to interrupt.

 

“You said your mother and father _were_ muirgens,” I begin. “ _ **Were.**_ Does- does that mean-”

 

“That they're gone now? Yes,” she says, answering my question before I can even finish asking it. “Last year. Some kind of accident. I'm not entirely sure what happened.”

 

“I'm sorry,” I say softly, not knowing what else to say. I remember how sad I'd been when my own father had died, and I'd only been a little kid, four or five years old. Jade had had her entire childhood and most of her adolescence with her parents. Her loss had to have been much more difficult than my own, but she shrugs like it doesn't bother her.

 

“Yeah, it was sad, but I don't see the point of dwelling on what's gone. Me being upset about it isn't going to change anything, so I just...” she makes a motion with her hands. “...I carry on. I had my time with them, and I'm grateful for that. They taught me a lot. Mostly about humans.” She looks at me pointedly. “They wanted me to know about things. To understand The Divide. To know how to handle myself just in case things ever changed.” She pauses yet again, this time to sink down a little further in the tub. A few pieces of hair spring loose from her ponytail to swirl on the surface of the water like spilled ink. “My parents were always fascinated by humans,” she continues. “They even lived among them for a few years before I was born, back in Ireland-”

 

“Wait,” I cut her off. “How is that possible?” I shake my head, confused. “If they were mermaids, then-”

 

“First of all, the correct plural form that you're struggling for is 'merpeople',” she says snarkily. “I'm almost one hundred percent positive that my father was not secretly a mermaid rather than a merman, and if he was, then I can't even begin to explain how I came to be-”

 

Um, ew? “Okay, okay, I get it,” I laugh.

 

“Secondly,” she continues, “It _is_ possible for us to get out of the water. You know that. I walked here, you know; you saw me do it, it's not like I was dragging myself down the street by my hands with my tail flopping all over the place.”

 

“'Walked'? Is that what that was supposed to be, walking?” I can't help but snicker. “No, Jade, that was stumbling if I've ever seen it. Seriously, my nana walks better than that, and she's almost eighty years old.”

 

“Maybe so, but your nana has almost eighty years of practice. I thought I did okay for my first time,” she says coolly.

 

The laughter dries up in my throat. “Your first time?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You mean, you've never walked, at all, before today?”

 

“No, I haven't.”

 

“Well, why not?” I ask impatiently.

 

She purses her lips, clearly a little agitated. “I wasn't allowed to until today. You have to be at least seventeen before you can go on land for your first Ambulare.” I'm opening my mouth to ask another question when she rolls her incredible eyes and keeps going. “' _Ambulare'_ means 'to walk' in Latin. Even though no one really uses that language anymore, we keep the term out of tradition. Or maybe because it sounds kinda cool and we're too lazy to find anything else to call it. Anyway, we aren't allowed to leave until we're 'mature'-” she scornfully makes air quotes around the word- “enough to handle it. It's annoying when you're younger and all eager to see the world, but I guess it does make sense. Can you imagine if we let the children go out on their own? What if they got caught in the rain or something and accidentally transformed in front of a human? It'd be chaos.” She sighs and looks down at her hands. “Of course, I've already done that, haven't I?” She groans. “Oh, they'll have my _tail_ if they find out-”

 

“How would they find out?” I ask, confused. “I'm the only one who's seen you.”

 

“Yeah,” she grumbles, “and you've never seen a mermaid before. This has got to be big for you. I can't expect you to keep something like this to yourself, and it's not like I can hold you hostage here for eternity to make sure you don't tell anyone-”

 

“Jade,” I begin.

 

She keeps rambling. “-I'm in _such_ deep trouble when I get home. Oh, God, what was I thinking, asking a human for help?”

 

I try again. “Jade, I-”

 

“I only go on Ambulare _once_ and I mess it up,” she mutters. “Typical. Just typical. Oh well, I guess it was fun while it lasted-”

 

“JADE!” I bellow, finally managing to cut her off.

 

“WHAT?” she screeches back. Steam starts rising in tendrils from the bathtub as she glowers at me, her face contorted in an angry glare. “ _What,_ Beck, what do you want? Can't you see I'm a little _busy_ here?”

 

“Yeah, I think Stevie Wonder could see that,” I scoff. “And can't _you_ see that you're working yourself up for absolutely no reason? I'm not going to tell anyone!”

 

Her jaw drops open in surprise, her expression softening as the grimace slowly fades from her face. “What?”

 

“I said, I'm not going to tell anyone,” I repeat firmly. “I'm not gonna rat you out like some kind of criminal. I wouldn't do that. It just wouldn't be right.”

 

Caution replaces the fear and anger that had been playing across her features. Her face is still intense, but she does settle down a bit; the plumes of steam that had been hurling themselves into the air evaporate, and she crosses her arms, eyeing me carefully.

 

“And how do I know I can believe you?”

 

I think for a moment, then drop to my knees beside the bathtub so that we're on the same level. She raises her head and meets my gaze, her eyes sparkling like sea glass as they stare into my own.

 

“What are you...?”

 

“You'll see,” I say. “It's a human thing. One of the ways we make promises we don't intend on breaking.” I smile. “Hold out your hand.”

 

Jade just looks at me dubiously for a moment, but does as I ask, lifting her right hand out of the water.

 

“Okay,” I continue. “Make a fist like this-” I reach out and cup her hand with my own, gently curling all but one of her fingers against her palm. I then shift my hand a few inches and lock my little finger with hers.

 

“I promise not to tell anyone,” I say solemnly. “Okay? You have my word. Cross my heart, and hope to die.”

 

She nods, seeming to finally decide to believe me. I drop her hand and sit back on my heels, trying to stifle a chuckle. I haven't pinky-promised anything to anyone since I was about eight years old. Still, Jade had needed reassurance that she could trust me, and short of a blood oath or a binding legal contract, this was the best that I could do.

 

We're quiet for a few minutes, until I suddenly think of something. “So, you said today was your first Ambulare, right? Because you were always too young before?”

 

“Yeah, that's right.”

 

I pause for a moment, chewing on the corner of my lip. “So... if today's the first time you were allowed to go, then...” I trail off. Being summer, I lose track of the days pretty easily. I'm lucky I even know what month it is- July. I finally have to sneak a glance at my watch to be reminded that it's the twenty-sixth. “Jade, it's your birthday.”

 

She nods, not seeming to think there's anything very remarkable about that fact. “Yeah, so?”

 

“So... we should celebrate.” I glance around. The bathroom's a pretty dull place for a birthday party. “Um, is there any way we can take care of _this?”_ I motion to her tail. “And get you up and around again? That is, if you're up to it,” I add quickly. She _had_ fainted, after all. I didn't want to push her.

 

“Of course I'm 'up to it',” she snaps. “I just got overheated. It's not like I'm dying. And yeah, you can get rid of _this,”_ she says, gesturing to her tail, mocking me. “but I have to be completely dry, which takes awhile. At least, I think it does. I haven't had much practice. I don't know what works.”

 

“I think I know of something that might help,” I say. “Pull the plug out of the drain, and I'll go get my hair dryer.”

 

Jade looks at me curiously. “What in the hell is a hair dryer?”

* * *

**Author's Note**

Thanks so much for all the kind reviews on the first couple of chapters! They were very encouraging.

 

Also, I got one review asking about what I meant in the introduction when I said a lot of the people left. What I meant by that was that they moved away because they didn't like The Divide and didn't see the point of staying in California if they couldn't go to the beach anymore. Sorry for any confusion.

 

I'd love some more feedback! I'm hoping to update again Saturday, so please let me know what you think!


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